


She And Only She

by halamshiral



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Conflicted Solas, F/M, Insomnia, Jealous Solas, Male Solo, Masturbation, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halamshiral/pseuds/halamshiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas wakes up in the middle of the night burning with desire for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Solas opened his eyes. His throat felt dry, his muscles tense. Something had dragged him out of the Fade. A force that pulled at his mind, forcing him into the real world. He knew it was the effect that she had on his focus, on his ability to control his dreams. He wondered if it was the Anchor, the familiar magic accidentally placed upon her hand, that prevented him from sleeping.

Or perhaps it was the thought of his own power pulsing through her; the Dread Wolf's magic marking her, a dalish elf, as his. She was nothing like the People, she was a mortal. And he had misjudged her, underestimated her because of her people's ignorance. But, since fate is whimsical, she had eventually become  the object of his desires, an attraction against which he had tried to fight, in vain. Lavellan possessed a youthful charm, a wisdom he had not expected; she was like a breath of fresh air. When they were on the battlefield, he would find himself distracted by her, a reckless behaviour he would indulge happily. He watched her usually gentle demeanor turn into fierce, ruthless wrath as she destroyed her enemies without mercy. The grace with which she moved, the strength with which she fought and her indomitable focus were pleasing side benefits to him.

An unpleasant sensation of loneliness creept up inside him. He began to crave the heat of her body against his; a desire already too familiar. It was a primal need he had been trying to restrain for too long. And he could not help feeling ashamed of his diminished self-control. He was no longer the hot-blooded, young elf that used to give in to the fleeting pleasures of the flesh so easily. But Lavellan was different; she threatened to break down every barrier he had built. Sometimes he imagined himself lavishing her breasts with kisses while he plunged his cock between her slick folds and into the heat of her core. He wished to discover how beautiful her voice would sound broken, gasping, filled with pleasure while he worshipped every inch of her body with his mouth; how good her sweet wetness would feel tightening around his flesh with need.  
The sheets that covered him felt suffocating and clammy on his bare skin as his own body responded to his lustful thoughts; fantasies for which he felt guilty. Solas feared hisdesire could turn into something more; infatuation, then love, emotions that, if indulged, could ultimately jeopardize his mission and everything he had been fighting for.

_What a fool you are, old wolf. Even if you could allow yourself such pleasures, she would not reciprocate your desire._

Trying to dismiss any unwelcome thought, he reached down to grab his erection. It swelled even more at his own touch. He began to stroke himself slowly as he imagined it was she who was caressing his painfully engorged cock. He wondered what her soft hands would feel like against his sensitive skin. Would she dare to taste him? Would she be willing to wrap her lips around his dripping tip and suck until he had no endurance left? Until he emptied himself in her mouth as her name escaped his lips in a shaky breath? He longed to feel her hot touch, her humid kisses, her muffled moans while he fucked her to the hilt.

As such contemplations increased his burning desire, he ran his thumb across the wet tip, spreading the moisture gathered there. He imagined it was her warm tongue lapping hungrily his salty skin clean. His flushed flesh ached desperately for friction then. As he started to move his hand up and down and thrust into the grip of his own hand, he imagined her lowering herself down onto his erection, her clenching walls enfolding him tightly. He threw his head back against the pillow, panting audibly as he quickened his pace. What would she think if she could see him like that? If she knew it was she and only she who put him in such a state? Would she take joy in quenching his desire? Would she allow him to possess her until they both reached their sweetest peak?

His belly twitched as he continued pumping his pre-cum soaked sex, his release drawing near. Oh, how he wished to touch and revere her tender body; to feast on her until her words became incoherent and her gasps turned into squeals; to feel her squirm and shudder as he spilled his hot seed deep inside her. He would lay with her every night if she so wished; he would give her everything she asked for.

Solas whispered her name shakily again and again, as his movements became erratic and he finally reached his climax, warm cum spurting out onto his stomach. He squeezed his overstimulated flesh until every drop was spent, until his sexual gratification turned into utter shame.  
And before he could even recover himself from his frenzy, a sudden knock on the door startled him, bringing him back to his pathetic reality as he lay there, covered in sweat, cum and self-loathing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Solas?"

It was the sound of her voice; of course it had to be the Inquisitor the one to show up at his door now of all times, even if it was excessively late for a casual visit.

_Fenedhis._

Solas stiffened under the sheets, his temples throbbing as he remained silent, expecting her to leave eventually. The knocks, however, much to his dismay, became more insistent. He sat up and reached for a towel to clean himself off hurriedly, cursing under his breath. Perhaps there was an urgent matter that required his attention.

"Yes?" He asked in an attempt to gain some time as he got out of bed and rushed to pick up his leggings.

"It's me, Solas. The Inquisitor." She spoke again from the other side of the door.

Solas nearly stumbled against a chair as he struggled to pull the shabby garment up his sweaty legs.

_Fool, fool, fool._

He put on his woolen sweater clumsily and straightened his clothes before opening the door at last. The Inquisitor looked jittery, but her features softened as soon as her eyes met his. She must have noticed that he had put on his sweater inside out and his shortness of breath, because she immediately apologized for the intrusion.

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

Oh how charming she looked, even when distress adorned her face. She was wearing her usual beige uniform. He liked the way its tight fabric accentuated the curves of her slim body, even though their mage companions considered it the most infamous crime perpetrated against fashion.

_You might want to rethink this beige pyjamas of yours. It's monstrous..._

_Darling, you are not taking fashion advice from our dear apostate, are you?_

Solas' reply to their snide remarks was always an exasperated sigh; one that he was now fighting to restrain as the Inquisitor invited herself into his untidy room and sat cross-legged on his bed, making herself comfortable among the furs that covered the mattress.

"It is no bother. How can I help?" He closed the door behind him and sat down on a chair near the fireplace, willing to listen to her.

"I didn't choose this but I owe the world a salvation, don't I?" She started, encouraged by his apparent patience. "Even my life, if necessary."

"That is a burden we all carry, Inquisitor." He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Lavellan nodded, unconvinced. She fixed her gaze on her left hand and traced the lines of her palm with a fingernail, seemingly deep in thought.

"Is the Anchor bothering you?" Solas asked, trying to discern what was troubling her so. Lavellan responded to his question with an effusive shake of her head.

"After Haven, I..." She paused, her brows furrowed. "I know I'm not alone in this but I'm the last hope for Thedas. And I'm afraid of what could happen if I fail."

"Your fear is understandable, albeit unfounded."

"I find your optimism quite surprising." Her lips curled into a small smile.

"I am merely being realistic. What you have accomplished is remarkable. There is no reason to believe you will not succeed." He retorted, his voice gentle, soothing.

"I appreciate your reasoning but I have to keep reminding myself of what's at stake. I can't afford to let my guard down now that..." Her words got lost in a faint sigh as her eyes returned to the fireplace, defeated.

Both elves remained quiet, although it was not an uncomfortable silence; they had known each other long enough to overcome the initial awkwardness that their differences had caused. Solas' gaze raked over her with curiosity, lingering on her face, contemplating her features as the flickering firelight danced over them. She was so beautiful to him, but it was her imperfection that made her unbearably appealing. Her skin screamed battle cries and her eyes, which were now gleaming with unshed tears, had seen and accepted so much death and blood. She was strong-willed, but understanding at the same time; she was deadly as poison, but tender as a rose.

"While I cannot give you the reassuring certainty you seek, I do know a spell that may render your dreams pleasant. I can put you to sleep, if you like."

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Please." She answered softly.

"Lie down, lethallan."

And she obeyed, her bright, hopeful eyes staring at Solas intently as he walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and placed two fingers on her forehead, releasing a wave of magical energy that sent her to the Fade instantly. He should have finished what he had started, drive away her bad dreams and go, leave her in peace, away from him. But he caressed the slavery marks that adorned her skin instead, tracing the lines gently. Solas wondered what she would look like without them. Perhaps, in the future, he would have the pleasure of seeing her face bare and free. She was a rare creature with a magnificent spirit, although he could not be certain if it was the Anchor that had granted her such virtues. And then, as he watched her sleep, he began to wonder if what he felt for her was something more than just physical attraction.

_No, no, no._

He took her marked hand and kissed the palm softly, letting his lips brush over the scarred skin there. The magic of the Anchor tingled against his lips, its green glow awakened at his touch. He groaned as he snuggled his nose in her hand and inhaled, breathing his magic. His.

_No, no, no, fool. It is your fault. You spoiled it. It is no longer yours._

She then squirmed in her sleep and muttered a few unintelligible words. Another nightmare, he thought. And when he entered her dream, he reshaped it for her, just for her, and he banished every hideous display of the Fade to replace them with peaceful forests and soothing waterfalls, with purple skies and marvelous ruins. Then, she looked at him as thankfulness filled her eyes. But he did not hear her express her gratitude, nor did he deserve it. He was gone in the blink of an eye.

In the morning, when Solas returned to his bedroom after an unpleasant night of interrupted dreams on the uncomfortable sofa of the rotunda, she was no longer there. He felt inexplicably empty as he stared at the furs that covered his bed. They were probably impregnated with her scent, and he fought the urge to smell them, just as he had done her marked hand the night before.

But he did not love her, no. He could not submit to such feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the kudos/comments, I really appreciate your feedback <3


	3. Chapter 3

When Solas found her in the library, she blushed. Her eyes were elusive, her words awkward. She had hidden a book behind her back. But he did not dare to intrude, nor did he care about her private matters.

"You startled me, I didn't hear you coming." She excused herself.

Disregarding her strange behavior, he delivered the latest report he had been working on. It was then that her clumsy fingers dropped the book to the floor and his eyes fell inevitably on the colorful, pretentious cover, whose title read "How to Please Your Elven Lover in Bed".

Lavellan looked mortified. Her reddened face contorted with shame as she rushed to pick up the book. But it was already too late.

There was no doubt in his mind now.

It explained why she had been spending most of her time up on the roof of the tavern. She was bedding the childish woman that took joy in getting on Solas' nerves whenever she had the occasion; the elven girl that rejected everything she was supposed to be. Who else could it be?  
  
_Enough, Solas. Venavis._  
  
But Solas was selfish and jealous.

He was also old, older than the castle in which they dwelled; he had seen countless ages pass as he slept; he had nurtured from the wisdom of the very Fade for millenia. But even so, he found himself at the mercy of such intrusive feelings, as if he was the hot-headed elf that he used to be back in his youth - again. Lavellan had the right to find happiness, even if it was in the arms of another person; even if it was in the arms of the _wrong_ person. And yet, he could not stand the thought of the Inquisitor sharing her bed with somebody else.

"Solas, let me explain." She spoke as if she owed him comfort, perhaps aware of the disillusionment such a sudden realization had caused him.

"I do not require an explanation. It is not my concern." He said quickly, his tone more abrupt than he had intended.

"But I thought you..."

"I apologize for interrupting your reading, Inquisitor."

And he left the library without looking back, both disappointed and furious at himself for being such a fool. But he was not surprised. There was nothing he could offer her, save deception and pain. The Inquisitor would always see him as an advisor, a mere companion, and perhaps it was better this way. After all, the wisest choice was to avoid any emotional entanglement that could interfere with his plans in the long run.  
  
Because he was not in love with her, was he? What he felt was fleeting desire, nothing more. He would forget, in time.  
  
But time went by too slowly when sleep eluded him. Days and weeks passed and she haunted his every thought while he tossed and turned, and even when he managed to drift off to sleep, she was there, in his dreams. His body ached every night, and all he could do was allow himself the momentary release he desperately needed. It was quick, suffocating; shameful. Even unpleasant sometimes. And it always ended with her name leaving his lips; with his shaky voice revering her beautiful, disgustingly Dalish name as if it was a sacred word while the woman he so desired dallied with the worst person he could think of.  
  
During the day, he tried to maintain his mind occupied to no avail. Solas forced himself to drink tea in the hope of focusing on his tasks, but it did nothing save flood his mouth with a bitter, obnoxious taste. He even considered leaving Skyhold for a short time, but there was too much at stake. He had his own motivations and would not let his pride get the better of him this time. Thus Solas finally decided to apologize for his questionable behavior.

However, the Inquisitor had not visited him since their 'incident' at the library, and her deliberate absence, although expected, hurt him more than he dared to admit. Seemingly, she was avoiding the rotunda and, by extension, the library, which had always been one of her favorite places in the fortress. Solas did not blame her though, and neither did he when he learnt from Josephine that she had left for the Emerald Graves without him.

"When did she leave?" He asked, feigning calm.

"A week ago. I expect her to return shortly. We have received plenty of missives from nobles that need her attention as soon as possible."

"I presume she is not traveling alone."

"Cassandra, Dorian and Sera left with her, I believe." The Ambassador paused, aware of the hardly conceiled dismay of his expression. "If the matter is urgent, however, I could send word."

"It will not be necessary. Thank you."  
  
Solas did not return to the rotunda that evening. He needed a drink. A strong one.

Perhaps two.

And so he went to the only place in Skyhold where he could drink to forget. The atmosphere there was warm and spirited, filled with tavern songs and cheerful voices. Many eyes fell on him when he entered the place, but quickly disregarded his presence. Luckily, Sera was nowhere to be seen, since she was traveling with the Inquisitor, but Varric was there drinking and playing cards with a group of people. The dwarf greeted him with great enthusiasm and tried to convince him to join his game of Wicked Grace.

"I'm not much of a gambler anymore." Solas declined and sat a few tables away from him.

Varric, however, did not seem willing to give up his conversation with Solas and left his table in the middle of the game. Shrugging off the complaints of his friends, he sat at Solas' table.

"Wait, did the Fade disappear or something? This is the last place I expected to see you, Chuckles."

"Hello, Varric." Solas said bitterly.

"Are we... celebrating something?"

"Quite the opposite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venavis: stop
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I didn't expect to get so many kudos :_)


	4. Chapter 4

Despite Varric's efforts to loosen Solas' tongue with inquisitive remarks and ale, he did not reveal much. As far as he was concerned, the dwarf could not be trusted. At best, he would take his sincerity as an opportunity to get inspiration for one of his stories. In fact, Varric had let him know on one occasion that he would be a worthy protagonist for his infamous romance series because, according to his words, he was "too lonely not to care". Solas did not know whether to feel flattered or offended, considering the unsuccessful sales of Swords and Shields.

After reading Hard in Hightown, Solas had grown interested in his literature and had decided to give the romance one a try. Now he could agree on Varric's regret for having written it.; it was beyond awful. Solas could not understand Cassandra's fascination with the book, seeing as she was an educated, intelligent woman, or why she insisted on calling it smutty literature. Its characters were flat, its plot mundane, and -although he would not admit it openly- he had found the lack of sexual content utterly disappointing.

Now, as the dwarf's hazel eyes harassed him silently, he could almost imagine the words that went through his head.

_"The cheerful atmosphere contrasted with the elven apostate, a soul ridiculously tormented by loneliness and unrequited love. He looked like he was going to confess his secret to me, like a faithful man telling a sister of the Chantry his darkest sins..."_

Solas was about to give up his unfortunate attempt to take his mind off things outside the Fade and return to the peace and quiet of his rotunda when Varric's interrogation was suddenly interrupted by a far less pleasant individual.

"Friggin' son of an arse, you!"

Sera's voice pierced his ears like a thousand daggers as she strode towards them, her boots leaving a trail of mud on the wooden floor. Apparently, the Inquisitor and her party had returned from the Emerald Graves sooner than expected.

Solas felt a knot tightening in the pit of his stomach. Sera's respect towards him was as rare as a snowy wyvern, but he had never seen the young elf so upset with him before.

"Watch your tongue, child." He defended himself, trying not to raise his voice.

"You watch your arse, because I'll put one in it if you hurt her again, shite-face!"

A few curious heads turned in their direction when she took an arrow from the quiver that hung behind her back and wielded it menacingly as if it were the mightiest of blades.

"Let's relax here, Buttercup." Varric intervened.

"Shut it, I'm not talking to you!" The girl retorted, acknowledging the dwarf's presence for the first time since her arrival.

Solas shook his head and took a sip of ale, naively wishing that the insolent elf would go away if he did not pay attention to her.

"What did Chuckles do anyway?" Varric insisted, growing more and more curious.

“He knows what he did.”

"I will not discuss this." Solas spoke, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"Having fun, guys?"

Sera's violent outburst had also caught the attention of the Iron Bull, who had approached them casually with a jar of maraas-lok in his hand.

"Get out, it's none of your business." She snapped back.

"Here, drink." Bull placed the jar on the table. "It will make you feel better."

“Ew.” Sera looked at it with a disgusted grimace and shook her head.

"Buttercup was just delighting us with her rhetoric." The dwarf informed mockingly.

"My what?"

"To all appearances, it is a spectacle worth seeing." Solas added.

"Shut it, you're all daft and don't make sense!"

It was then that the Inquisitor entered the tavern, garnering everyone's attention. Her unexpected appearance seemed to daunt Sera, who headed upstairs in haste before giving the group of men two fingers.

Had Solas been more sober, he would have found Lavellan's presence uncomfortable. But what a sight for sore eyes she was! So graceful in her armor, so powerful and mighty. The questioning look in her dreamy eyes, the repressed smile that made her mouth quirk ever so slightly as she walked up to them, made him all but forget she was just a mortal being.

"What was that about?" She asked, visibly puzzled at Sera's behavior.

“I don't know. She's pissed off" The qunari shrugged. "But, boss, tell me something, did you kill another dragon?”

“Two of them, actually.” She joked.

“Yeah... you're shitting me. You wouldn't kill two dragons without me, I'm the best dragon hunter you've got.”

“Cassandra doesn’t drain all my health potions within minutes.” She reproached mockingly. “Besides, she fought those dragons until the end. With her bare hands.”

“And I’m the Viscount of Kirkwall.” The dwarf laughed.

“You would be a terrible viscount, Varric. No offense.” Said the Inquisitor.

“You wound me.” He replied dramatically as he stood up from his seat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I came here to lose money.”

"I'm in." Said the Iron Bull.

And both of them walked away, leaving the two elves as alone as they could be in a tavern that was full of people.

"Are you trying to find old memories of the Fade in the bottom of that glass?" She asked in an attempt to break the tension between them as she sat down in front of him.

"So it seems." He smiled at her vaguely. Then, he cleared his throat and spoke again before she could say anything else. "I wish to apologise, Inquisitor. My manners were unworthy and reprehensible."

“No, I'm sorry, Solas. I was confused. You seemed to respond to my… well, flirting.”

“I did, at the time. But I will not come between you and Sera, if that is your concern.” His hurried words conveyed that he was actually nervous.

“Sera?” She paused, bemused. “Wait, you think we’re together? She's my friend, nothing more.” The young elf assured him.

“Ah, well.”

_Ha! You completely misread the situation. Well done, Solas._

A strange sense of relief settled over him. Even though he felt slightly embarrassed, knowing that the obnoxious elf was not the Inquisitor's mystery lover put him at ease.

He remained silent, however, as he was unsure of what to say. Solas was not easily lost for words, but she always made him doubt.

And doubt was something he could not afford.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why would it bother you if Sera and I were together?” Lavellan failed to restrain the faint, mischievous smile that now tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“She is a petulant child with no respect for anything beyond her narrow understanding.”

“Then enlighten me with your wisdom, master Solas.” She said wryly. “Who would be a better suitor for me?”

Solas held her gaze with searing intensity. The alcohol was making it difficult for him to think clearly.

_Contrary to my desires, not me._

“That is not for me to determine.” He replied, his face blank of any emotion.

“How about the Commander? I’ve noticed the way he looks at me. And I hear he has a thing for elves.” She teased.

“I thought _you_ were interested in elves, considering your peculiar reading habits. ”

The Inquisitor’s smug demeanor vanished in the blink of an eye under Solas’ penetrating scrutiny. She squirmed in her seat and cleared her throat, attempting to remain nonchalant, unsuccessfully.

“I was just… curious.” She grabbed the jar that Bull had left on the table and drank greedily, not without coughing a few times afterwards.

“And that curiosity of yours has been sated, I presume.” He continued.

 “Not really. I may need someone to help me put my knowledge into practice.” She said, her voice taking on a soft, alluring tone.

 “Many would be pleased to serve such a purpose.”

 “Oh, I have someone in mind. I just don't know if he's interested.”

 “Perhaps he is.”

 “Then perhaps he should meet me in my quarters tonight.” Her ravishing smile and the gleam of excitement in her eyes only fueled his eagerness to accept her daring proposal. However, he did not say anything as her hand slowly crept across the table towards his. Despite all the times that he had dreamed of her, imagined her in every possible position, whispered her name in the silence of the night, he could not bring himself to act on his desire. He simply observed quietly as her soft hand kept coming closer and closer until...

"Boss! Krem wants to speak with you." Bull's voice suddenly rumbled like a thunder, startling both elves. Lavellan quickly withdrew her hand before her fingers could even touch him and returned her attention to the qunari with unconcealed reluctance.

“What is it now?” She grunted.

“The Chargers are underpaid.”

Krem, who was standing next to his boss, scratched his head nervously. "Don't listen to him, Your Worship. He's drunk as a skunk.”

“Josephine is the one in charge of your payment.” Lavellan reminded Bull, exasperated.

“I know, but-”

“The last time he went to the Lady Ambassador's office, he almost provoked a war between Orlais and Par Vollen.” Krem revealed, interrupting the qunari.

“That noble was impolite, Krem.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just keep me out of your business, Chief.”

Suddenly, a great gush of water fell on their table from the upper levels of the tavern, followed by a bucket and a loud, maniacal laughter. Luckily, the bucket did not hit anyone, but both elves, especially Lavellan, ended up soaked.

“SERA!” The Inquisitor screamed in fury.

“Shite, I missed!”

Solas sighed and buried his face in his hands.

Coming to the tavern had definitely been a terrible idea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating often. Sadly, I've been a little busy with real life (I know, terrible). Anyway, I can't say I'm satisfied with this chapter. In fact, I wasn't going to post it, but I've been working on it for some time so... why not. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway, I did enjoy writing it nevertheless. Thank you so much for everything!


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